Post Everything
by nik47
Summary: A story of the end. "He felt her fingers at the small of his back, tracing his spine, threading through his hair, caressing his neck, his cheeks, his forehead. Holding him tight to her body, as if that's all it would take to make this okay."
1. Chapter 1

**Because my head space is here right now. And because I couldn't put this in Navigating Now, or I'd probably be killed in some sort of brutal fashion._  
_**

* * *

_It's in the water, baby._  
_It's in your frequency._  
_It's in the water, baby._  
_It's between you and me._

_Post-Blue ~ Placebo  
_

* * *

"Kate, no."

His reality was fracturing, bursts of red sparking in his mind, jagged, sharp, lethal, glittering, glinting, the brutality of the moment fragmenting his every fiber, every nerve, every sliver that made him who he was. He was demolished, with nothing more than softly-spoken words from beautiful lips. The glide of them, the slickness, the mesmerizing vision of her, of this woman who he had known, who he had loved, who he had lived with, and for, and because of. It was too much. It was detonation. It was annihilation. It was the end.

This couldn't happen. No. _Kate…_

"Castle."

One word. That's all it took. One word, and he knew it was hopeless. Knew there was no chance at all, no way out, no escape, no moving back, forward, around or past. Nowhere left to go. For either of them. With a single word, his life was snuffed.

And he snapped. Reality shifted, tilted, slipped. Succumbed.

She'd used his own name against him, loaded it like a gun and fired it into his heart point blank. He could feel the burn, the agony, the piercing invasion of everything in her voice, her tone, could hear the obsession. Her sick, twisted, vile obsession. He had fought its putrid rot for so long, thought it was expunged. He was a fucking fool.

"You can't do this."

He was following a script, saying what fit the scene, using hollow words to give the impression of a fight but already done. Already resigned, defeated. He'd lost. And he knew with painful clarity that he'd never really won. The time together, the moments, the memories, the happiness, the joy: they were an illusion. His voice was dead, merely going through the motions. Just like them. It was already over.

He knew he should say more, because there were more lines, more dialogue, and he had to play his part. But the thought nauseated him, made him physically ill. His head spun, dizziness assaulting him. He stumbled slightly then recoiled when she instinctively jerked towards him, instinctively sought to support him.

"You stay away from me."

Her turn to recoil. Her turn for all of it. The realization, the agony, the burn. Shot point blank. Not the first time. Not the last.

Of that he was certain. And the certainty was too much. Just enough. The close.

"Get out."

Her eyes met his, shining. She wanted. He knew those eyes, saw the want. He knew when there was something there, and when there wasn't. And they were overflowing. Teeming. Brimming. He saw it all. So much. And nothing. Because they were empty. Empty of everything he needed. Everything he wanted.

"Leave."

And she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Because it just grabbed on and hasn't let go. (Sorry, Deb - I know I promised it was over.) Please note the rating change.**

* * *

_It's in the water, baby._  
_It's in the pills that pick you up._  
_It's in the water, baby._  
_It's in the special way we fuck._

_Post-Blue ~ Placebo  
_

* * *

But then he stopped her.

He didn't say a word, the sudden rush of air at her back the only warning she received. And then his palm was slapping the door near her head, preventing it from opening. She flinched at the noise, froze.

She had seen it, seen what she'd done to him with her words. She had unhinged him. Broken a keystone and sent everything crashing. This – all of this – was her fault.

And she had no idea what came next.

She kept herself motionless, unable to turn, unable to face him, genuinely afraid. Not of him. He'd never hurt her, she knew that. If she knew nothing else, she knew that. No, she was afraid to see what she'd done. Afraid to witness the damage, the devastation. Afraid to know. There was no strength in her motionlessness. She was neither stalwart nor strong nor steady. She was nothing. Just empty. Just drained. Filled with the aching absence of him.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

She could sense the weight of him behind her, could hear the rasp of his breathing, harsh and uneven, could feel his shaky exhalations trailing faintly across the skin of her neck, skittering down her jacket, racing along her spine. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed. He was in everything, every aspect of her, every corner, crevice, crater of her heart. Her heart. Filled with him. Not enough. Never enough. It wasn't enough. She wasn't enough.

And he was right there, and he wasn't hers. Not anymore. Her fault.

He wasn't touching her. Of course he wasn't. His hand on the door, his feet braced, his body spearing heat through hers. He was so close, bare millimeters separating them, and utterly unreachable. She'd done this. His words from before…she thought she'd been prepared, thought she knew what she was doing, thought she was ready to deal with this head-on. But his words. _You stay away from me._ They'd sliced her open, visceral, raw, critical. He'd delivered a mortal blow. To both of them. Deadly. There was no coming back from that. She'd known it instantly. So had he.

He'd never touch her again. He'd never touch her again. He'd _never_ touch her again.

And she snapped.

Whirled. Spun. Twisted.  
Directly into him.

His hands were on her arms before she even made contact, rough, restraining, but he wasn't fast enough. No matter how fast he was, no matter how quick his responses, nothing could be swifter than her in this moment. Nothing could be more forceful. Nothing could stop her.

She caught a flash of blue, a flash of her existence, and then he was hers. Then they were them. One last time.

The taste of him was brief, but heady. Flooding. Addictive. But she knew that already, knew that it would be. It always was. She shouldn't do this, but it was already too late. She'd tasted him, his scent was filling her senses, her hands were on him. She was swamped in him, mired. He'd sent her away then stopped her, and now…now she couldn't go. _Castle…_

His touch was hard, palms grasping, fingers digging, arms shoving. But it was a touch. He was touching her. The sob ripped through her chest, tore from her throat, shredded her mouth as it slashed past her lips and sliced into his.

He yanked his head away violently as his arms extended, locking at the elbows. She stumbled, legs a step behind the rest of her as he pushed her back into the door. But her biceps were encased in his grip and he didn't let go, held her upright, held her while she couldn't hold herself.

And stillness screamed back into being.

She swallowed, struggling to catch her breath, gaze locked on his cheekbone, his profile, the dip of his brow over eyes that refused to meet her own. She wanted to say something, anything. Needed to make it better, fix it. But she couldn't. The only way to fix it was to leave. The only thing left was walking away. But she couldn't.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, Castle." She didn't even know what she was asking for.

His face turned back to her slowly, hard lines chiseled in all the wrong places. "No, Kate. I won't. I won't say goodbye like this. Not like this."

"Then don't." She held his gaze, clung to the hint of blue she glimpsed at the edges of the roiling storm within. "Don't say goodbye, Castle." She canted forward as much as she was able, not caring that his fingers tightened painfully around her, not caring that every inch she erased between them he wrote anew by leaning away. Not caring that she was making this harder. Impossible. For both of them.

"Don't say anything."

He stared at her. Just stared. And she watched their life together in his eyes. The give and the take, the serious and the playful, the coffees and the cases, the laughter and the tears, the first times and the last times, the surprises and the certainty, the confessions and the vows, the moments and the whole. All of it, plain to see inside him. Inside her. Between them. Everything.

"I love you."

They spoke in tandem, his words slipping over hers as hers slid beneath his, merging, melting, their truths twining effortlessly. Joined. Partnered. Hitched.

Always.

Their bodies collided, the push of his hands at her arms suddenly gone, replaced with the pull of them at her waist, her back, her neck. Her fingers found his elbows, wrapping him tighter around her body before migrating up his arms, around his shoulders, hoisting herself higher into his hold, deeper into the depths of him. Her lips found his already parted, urgent and demanding, her tongue sliding home with his own, needing to belong.

His right hand gripped her head, twisted in her hair, tilted her neck, granting him access to all of her, and she felt his mouth slant and his tongue glide deeper. His other hand slid down her spine, yanking brutally at her hip, grinding her against him, against every inch, friction sparking along their bodies. His palm dropped, skimmed below her thigh, yanked at her leg, hooking it over his hip before pressing her harder into the door, harder against his arousal.

She moaned, the sound swallowed down in the heat of their mouths as they slipped and slid together, lips and teeth and tangled tongues. Her fingers scraped against his scalp, flicking along the hairs at the nape of his neck before tucking into his collar, her nails raking bare skin down the length of his back as far as she could reach. He spasmed, hips jerking against her, his hand dropping from her hair to the edge of her shirt and disappearing beneath.

She was gasping now, as was he, breaths passing back and forth between their lips, mingling together in hot bursts of air that blasted sensitive skin at cheeks and neck and chest. She arched against the door as his hand skated along her abdomen and slid beneath her bra, the rough pads of his fingers grazing her nipple before squeezing tightly. She kept herself bowed from the flat surface at her back, allowing his hand to reach around and undo the clasp, freeing her aching breasts into his heavy, possessive touch.

She slipped her hands to his shoulders, using his broad frame to gain leverage, launching up and twisting her other leg around him, locking her ankles together. She bit his lip at the sensation of her core pressed so intimately against him, could feel his response in every twitch of his body, from head to hands to hips.

He growled into her mouth and bit her back before swinging them both around, cupping her ass with his free hand and taking a swift step towards the nearby table. He dropped her down, wasn't gentle, and it hurt, but even as her lips released a gasp, her arms held steady around his neck, her thighs secure at his waist, taking him down with her.

His hands were free to roam now, and her shirt was unbuttoned in seconds, ripped from her body, bra following. She trailed her own fingers to the buttons at his chest, fumbled to release them, cursing inwardly at the difficulty they presented. And then he swatted her hands away, made quick work of them himself, tugging his arms free before grabbing her wrists and slamming them above her head, pressing himself down against every inch of her, their exposed flesh meeting, sliding, converging, hot and smooth and slick.

"You say it again," he demanded, mouth moving against her neck, biting at her pulse point. "Say it now."

She keened at the weight of his body over hers, arched into the hardness of him between her still-clothed thighs, inhaled sharply at the pressure of his teeth and the need in his words. "I love you, Castle. I love you, I love you, I love – "

He cut her off viciously, plundering her mouth with his own. She kissed him back, poured all of the emotions of the last days, and weeks, and months into this singular moment, this pure, unassailable link between them, released everything. God, it had been so long since they'd touched, taken, surrendered. She never wanted it to stop.

And then he was gone, and she nearly cried out at the suddenness of it, at the loss. And then she felt the sharp tug at her hips, the rough glide of her jeans, the harsh cold of the table assaulting bare skin. And then she felt nothing at all, nothing but the searing scorch of him against her.

She sensed the shift in him, the tenderness. He draped himself above her, shielding her from all of it, everything that waited beyond this moment. He knew then. Knew nothing had changed. But the tip of his nose touched hers reassuringly, his hands gliding up her sides, caressing her neck, feathering over her cheeks. He tilted her mouth to meet his, joining their lips once, twice, three times, so lightly she might have imagined it. He stared at her, held her eyes, his voice barely more than a breath of air. "Kate."

And then he took her, quietly, smoothly, filling her completely in one sure stroke.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**I've actually got places to go here, if there's interest in the ride. Fair warning: angst is the name of the game. Your thoughts are always appreciated and each review is greeted with a ridiculous dance of joy, so please don't be shy. Also, this is the farthest I've ever taken the smut, so constructive feedback in that arena would be most welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks a ton for all the feedback, guys. Your words and interest are quite literally keeping this thing going.**

* * *

_It's in the water, baby,  
It's in your family tree.  
It's in the water, baby,  
It's between you and me._

_Post-Blue ~ Placebo  
_

* * *

It was as slow as he could make it, as slow as they could make it, but not nearly slow enough. All too soon, she was crying out, arching beneath him, succumbing to his erratic thrusts as his gasps poured out against the soft skin of her neck and he lost control, his own body betraying him, launching him forcefully over the bittersweet edge of total release.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, chest heaving, arms clinging, forehead pressing desperately to her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she whispered. He felt her fingers at the small of his back, tracing his spine, threading through his hair, caressing his neck, his cheeks, his forehead. Holding him tight to her body, as if that's all it would take to make this okay. Tears burned his eyes, raging furiously, demanding freedom from behind closed lids. He fought them stubbornly but knew it was no use, knew they were escaping one by one, trickling down his cheeks, his jaw, mingling with the faint sheen of sweat gracing both her skin and his.

"This is my fault," he rasped, his voice rough with helplessness. "This is all my fault."

"No, Castle. No." He could hear the pain in her words, the heartbreak. She tugged at his head, pulling his face to hers, swiped a thumb beneath his eyes, recapturing the tears, then erasing them with her gentle touch. He closed his eyes against the tenderness. Knew what it meant.

"Hey." He blinked at the soft demand in her voice, blurring away the moisture until he could truly focus, truly look. Her eyes greeted his, a sad smile on her lips. "This is not your fault. It's not." He heard the rest, without her having to speak it. _It's mine._

He dropped his head back to her chest, inhaling deeply, never wanting to forget the feel of her beneath him, committing the moment to memory even as he destroyed it with words. "This wouldn't be happening, Kate, we wouldn't be _here_ if it wasn't for me."

He felt the shake of her head, her chin brushing lightly through his hair at every pass. "Don't do that, Castle. Just…don't."

"Why not?" he demanded, the anger flaring suddenly. "Why the hell _not_, Kate?" He pushed up abruptly, pulling away, surprising both of them. He felt the yearning grasp of her hands against his skin as she tried in vain to keep him close, but he needed nothing more in that moment than to be separate from her, alone. "Why do you care who I blame? You, myself, him. The end result is still the same. You're still gonna walk out that door headed straight for him. So why does it matter?"

She sat up, eased off the table, bent immediately to retrieve her clothes. "Because it _does_, Castle. It matters to me."

He unleashed a harsh laugh at that, violently jerking up his pants. "Well, if it matters to _you_…"

"Don't be an ass, Rick." Her tone, that oh-so-familiar Beckett tone – strength and authority tinged with a hint of exasperation – succeeded in breaking through the thick haze of resentment clouding his mind, and he calmed enough to really hear her, focus on her words.

She took a deep breath and clasped her bra before slipping on her shirt, eyes darting to the steel-meshed clock on the wall as she began to fasten the buttons. "We've got an hour. If you meant what you said, if you want me to leave…" – his stomach churned at the thought, at the pain in her voice – "…then I will. Or we can talk about it, really talk. But I'm not doing _this_ with you. Not if it's…" She hesitated, biting her lip and glancing away before stepping hastily into her jeans.

"Not if it's the last time?" he supplied quietly, jaw clenched.

He heard her inhale sharply at his words, caught the tiny nod of her head. "Yeah," she whispered.

He swallowed thickly. "It doesn't have to _be_ the last time, Kate."

She looked up then, shot him a wry smile across the space between them. "I never said it did, Castle. That was your line, remember?"

He ducked his head instantly, an avalanche of shame and remorse crushing him down. "I'm sorry. That…I'm sorry. I was angry, I was…"

A fucking fool, that's what. How could he have said that? To _her?_ She loved him, of course she did. That he would question that was the definition of insanity. What had happened, what was happening now, her decision, it didn't change what they were to each other. It didn't change _them_. But all he'd heard at first was the name, the case, the past. And he'd let the old memories steamroll him, let the doubts and fears and nightmares flood his mind. And then he'd unleashed it all on her, given her nothing but rage, fury and an unthinkable ultimatum.

_If you do this, Kate, I swear to God I'm done. Even if you do survive – which I doubt – don't even bother coming back._

He hadn't really meant it, he hadn't, he'd just been so desperate, so terrified, so utterly convinced that this was it, the end, that he was never going to see her again. And he couldn't lose her, not her. It had been a gamble, a bluff. The most dangerous, idiotic bluff of his life. And she'd called him on it.

_Castle, I…I'm sorry. I don't have a choice. I have to do this. I _am_ doing this._

He'd watched her break under the impossibility of it then, the choice he'd forced her to make, and he knew that it was wrong, wanted nothing more than to take it all back, but she'd chosen against him, and she was going to go through with it, and he'd been so hurt, so _furious…_

Tears stung his eyes, the simple act of breathing suddenly too difficult to be entertained. He looked up, seeking her frantically with his eyes. She was still here, there was still time to make this right. He wasn't giving up. He still thought it was crazy, what she planned to do, but this wasn't her fault, any more than it was his. This was just reality.

His gaze found hers and air burst from his lungs at the understanding and absolution he found in her eyes. He was before her in an instant, cupping her cheeks in his palms, dropping his forehead to hers, breathing in the scent of her.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Kate."

She stepped into him immediately, wrapping her arms around his back, tucking her head into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his neck. "I know. I know, Castle."

He wasn't sure how long they stood there like that, simply holding each other, but the harsh ticking of the clock in the background finally yanked him from the solace of her, its inexorable pulse reminding him that they didn't have much time.

"Kate," he murmured, searching futilely for the right words and finding nothing at all, nothing that even came close. She was right, they needed to be calm, rational, really talk about this. He didn't want to fight anymore. He released her gently, pulled back just enough to look at her and then scrubbed a hand over his face at her tired expression, at the resignation in her eyes. She didn't say anything, though, just remained silent and let him work out how to begin.

"It's just…" he sighed, took another slight step away from her, running his fingers through his own hair. "It's just that we're so close. We're already halfway there. And you promised me, we promised each other…"

"We did," she agreed quietly. "I know we did. But things happen. Things change. Things _have_ changed, Rick. And it's not up to us anymore." She attempted a small smile. "Believe me, I wish it were."

He heard the sincerity in her words, trusted that what she'd said was true. And if it was, maybe he could still fix it. Still stop it from happening. He had to try. He could do this, he could save her life one more time. It's what he _did._ "Kate, I'm begging you. Please don't do it. Please."

The smile faded from her lips, disappeared completely. "We've been over this. I don't have a choice, Castle."

"You do!" he shouted suddenly, hating that she jumped, hating that she moved imperceptibly away. "You _do_ have a choice!"

"I will not be in this man's pocket, Castle." Her voice was calm, deadly so. "I will _not_ be Roy Montgomery." He flinched at that, the name that was taboo, never spoken, but she didn't stop, didn't even slow down. "I will not give him the satisfaction of that, or the control."

"He's always had the control, Kate." He gazed at her sadly and shrugged his shoulders, his eyes panning the room. "And I should know." She winced at his words, but he didn't let up. "And so should you."

"He crossed the line, Castle. We've known his name for almost two years, we took him head-on, we came so close to ending it, but he's _still_ out there. And then you, and now _this?_ It has to stop." She crossed her arms across her chest, shoulders tense but squared. "It _has_ to."

He stared at her. He wasn't getting through, not at all. He was failing, and she was going to leave him here, and go through with it, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about any of it. He fought the panic, the anger, the despair which had so completely enveloped him before. He had to think. He'd never change her mind by focusing on the danger to _her_. He needed more. He needed something unassailable. He needed…leverage.

And he only knew of one thing to use as leverage against this woman. Someone she cared about. Someone she loved. Himself. He took a shaky breath, his heart already rent to pieces at the thought of what he was about to do.

"He'll kill me, Kate."

It was the third bullet he'd fired that day: first an ultimatum, then a rejection, and now a flat, clinical observation which struck home just as surely as the first two. She reeled, physically staggered, an inaudible cry tearing from her lips. He watched as she crumpled to the tiny couch against the opposite wall, tears gliding silently down her cheeks, unable to look at him.

He was in agony, couldn't even fathom the reality of what he was doing. But he couldn't think of another way, needed to save her, even if it meant destroying a piece to salvage the whole. She'd forgive him. She would. Or she wouldn't. His heart clenched at the thought, but he battened down the pain, locked it away. It didn't matter. She'd be alive, and that's what he wanted. What he needed.

This wasn't the first time he'd lied to protect her. But it might be the last.

He steeled himself, kept his voice steady, plowed on. "That's what he said, right? And he will. You _know_ that. I'll die here. Alone." Her shoulders were shaking, her fingers pressed to her mouth, as if she were holding back a sob. His heart shattered as his lips moved. "Unless _you_ back off. Just let it go, Kate. Please. For me." His voice dropped. "For us."

She looked up at him, face wet, eyes glistening, and he could see that whatever strength she'd had before was gone. She looked so fragile to him, so small. Utterly breakable. "Castle, please. Don't. You'll have protection, I…it won't come to that. I won't let that happen."

He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, agree, reassure, cross to the couch, wrap her in his arms and never let go. But he was getting through, he was making progress. He couldn't stop now. "You won't let it happen, Kate?" He did go to her then, but didn't sit, or move to embrace her, merely dropped to his knees before her and tilted his head pointedly to the side.

"Like the first time you didn't let it happen?"

Kill shot.

He watched her face collapse, eyes flutter closed, shutting out the physical evidence, the harsh reality of her 'control'. Her hand rose to his bare shoulder, slid upwards, seeking out the thin silver scar at his neck. She traced its long length with gentle fingers, even as more tears slipped down her skin.

He reached out to cradle her cheek, wishing he could take it all back, every single word. How could he do this to her? How could he throw this in her face? It hadn't been her fault, it hadn't. He'd spent weeks – months – trying to really convince her of that. But he'd failed. He knew he had, even though she'd eventually stopped bringing it up, stopped apologizing. She still thought it was her fault. Still. And now he was using it against her.

It didn't matter whether she forgave him for this. He'd never forgive himself.

"He got to me once already, Kate," he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak in a normal tone. "He owns me here. You know that." He reached up with his free hand, stilling her fingers against his neck, holding them in place with his own. "It's just one more year, Kate. Just wait one more year for me. Then we can do it together." He fought down a surge of hope as she sighed softly, almost agreeingly. "Then I'll be safe."

Her eyes flew open at his final words, the motion sudden and unwavering, and the utterly fierce resolution he read in every line of her face took his breath away. He dropped his hands and rocked back on his heels, a toxic mixture of horror and disbelief careening through his mind. He'd crossed every line. Torn her asunder. And it still hadn't worked. He'd failed. He'd failed both of them.

And then she was following after him, slipping from the couch to kneel in front of him, her knees braced against the rough fabric of his pants, her shirt sliding across the smooth expanse of his chest, her forehead pressed to his, hands at either side of his jaw.

"_No_, Castle, that's just it. You'll _never_ be safe. And neither will I. Not as long as he's out there. Not as long as we let him do this to us." She rubbed her nose against his, tipping her chin to brush his lips lightly with her own. "And we're not the only ones involved anymore. She was just _nineteen_, Rick. Younger than Alexis. I..." Her voice finally broke. " I know there's a risk. To you. I know. I...but I _can't_ let him hurt anyone else. I won't. Not when I can _stop_ him."

"Why does it have to be you?" he asked, raw emotion cracking his voice. "Why does it _always_ have to be _you?_"

She leaned in, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his temple, settling in with a soft murmur at his ear. "Who else?"

"I should have killed him," he said suddenly, the words brutally sharp in the stillness she'd just created around them, slashing it to pieces. "I should have gone for your gun first. I should have ended it myself."

He felt her tense against him, but she stayed pressed to his body, made no move to pull away. "I'm glad you didn't," she breathed, burrowing further into the frame of him. "I've never been more grateful for anything in my life, Castle."

"A black eye, a broken nose, a shattered jaw," he rasped bitterly, his throat tight with hatred and regret. "In exchange for _this?_" He shook his head. "If I'd thought about it just two seconds more, I could have blown his fucking brains out."

"Stop," she gasped, her arms tightening around him. "Please, Castle. Stop."

"It would be over, Kate," he insisted roughly. "You'd be free of him, we both would, and that girl…" his voice cracked. "If I'd ended it when I had the chance, she'd still be alive."

"_Enough_." She whipped back from him, glaring into his eyes with a ferocity that startled him. "I never want to hear that again, Richard Castle. _Ever_." She gripped his chin between her fingers, holding his gaze. "This is _not_ your fault. Not any of it." She dropped her hand to his chest and gave him a hard shove. "So knock it off."

"Ow!" He rubbed a palm over his bare sternum. "That hurt!"

"Good!" she huffed. "Now stop being an idiot."

Despite the overwhelming seriousness of the moment, he couldn't help the upwards quirk of his lips. "Okay. Geez."

She rewarded him with the shadow of a grin, her fingers instinctively seeking out his and twining automatically, settling into familiar, well-worn grooves. Where they belonged.

The shrill ring of the phone on the other side of the room made them both jump, and he leapt to his feet immediately, pulling her up with him, eyes jerking towards the clock. Five minutes left. "Fuck," he rasped desperately. It wasn't enough time.

He looked down at her, saw his own hopeless frustration reflecting back at him. "Castle," she whispered urgently and then he was kissing her, forcefully, frantically, his arms encompassing her in a vice-like grip.

It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Five minutes. They were meant to have a lifetime.

He wrenched himself away from her mouth, tracing his lips over every inch of her face, his hands anchoring her against him, one cemented along her spine, the other buried deeply within the hair at the back of her head. "I love you," he breathed into her skin, tasting the tears on her cheeks. "I love you, Kate. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she affirmed, her voice soft but laced with strength. "Everything's going to be okay, Castle. It is. You'll see."

Hot tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, rivulets of pain set free across the jagged planes of his face. "Promise me," he mumbled, aware of how unfair it was to ask this of her but needing it so badly, so completely. "Promise me you'll be careful, that you'll be safe, that you'll come back to me. That you'll survive. Promise me, Kate."

Her hands found his neck, his jaw, bringing him back to her lips for a searing kiss. "I promise."

Her words enveloped him, washed through him, and even though he knew it was foolish, knew it was terrifyingly irrational, he let himself believe that if anyone could make a promise like that and hold true, it was her.

The phone rang again, louder, more insistent. Time's up.

"No!" he choked out, the word malignant, strangling his tongue. "No, I can't. I can't."

It was Kate who calmed him, soothed him, forced him to breathe and open his eyes. "Yes you can, Castle. You can do this. _We_ can do this."

She walked him over to the phone, picking it up then replacing it on the hook immediately, acknowledging the command but rejecting its intrusion. "Castle, look at me." He did, found her blurry and refracted in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, swiping angrily at the tears, furious that they were distorting what might be his last sight of her. She waited him out, waited until he had a handle on the overwhelming emotions, waited while he composed himself, both of them hyper-aware of the ever-ticking clock above them.

And when he was finally with her, wholly alert and aware, she took yet another precious moment to simply smile up at him.

"Whatever happens," she began, "wherever this leads, I want you to know that I don't regret a single moment, Castle. Not one." She traced her fingers over his brow, his nose, his lips. "I am so grateful for you. For having you in my life. You're everything." She leaned forward, bestowing a single, heated kiss upon his mouth before stepping back, out of his arms. "Always."

The door behind her opened, a guard striding inside, eyes scanning the room, assessing their positions, the situation. He nodded. "It's time."

Kate continued, as if he wasn't even there, and Castle was transfixed, mesmerized by the love radiating out from her so forcefully. "And I plan on showing you that, proving it to you…" – she took another step away – "…for a very, _very_ long time." She smiled softly. "Long after all of this."

He smiled back and then reached out to her slowly with his left hand. She watched it extend towards her before returning her gaze to him. And then she mirrored his action. Their fingers locked together, the soft clink of their rings thunderously loud in the stillness of the room.

The guard cleared his throat. "Mrs. Castle, it's time. If you'd please step outside."

She nodded brusquely, her eyes still staring into Rick's. At an unspoken signal, they allowed their hands to slip apart. He dropped his back at his side, fingers grazing the rough fabric of his orange jumpsuit.

"Goodbye, Kate," he said, voice steady, reconciled.

A brilliant smile lit her features. "Until my next visit, Castle."

* * *

**Ugh. Sick of the rollercoaster yet? Ideas and/or theories on what the hell is going on? Suggestions? Complaints? Please let me know below, and thanks for reading!**


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